


Eggnog, Guinness, & Coffee

by pamz



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Sexual Situations, Drinking to Cope, Explicit Language, F/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: AU ending to the miserable train wreck of an episode that was "Wreck the Halls" (3x11).  Walter is left by himself on Christmas Eve.  How much trouble can one heartbroken genius cause in one night?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic off and on for the past three weeks, almost as soon as the episode "Wreck the Halls" finished airing. That episode's original ending sucked so bad, I had to write my own. This is the result. It's finished (unlike two of my other fics) so it will get posted in a very timely fashion. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Working on it got me through some very dark days.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

"Eggnog?"

Walter stared down at the red mug covered with white snowflakes Toby had shoved into his hand. His lip curled in disgust. He disliked eggnog.

Standing there, cup in hand, he watched as his friends departed, leaving him by himself. When the door banged shut after Cabe, who was the last one out, Walter felt his fingers tighten on the mug's handle.

He had never celebrated Christmas after he'd fled Ireland. Oh, he'd bought Megan a present and took her out to dinner every year, but only because she had expected it. It wasn't until _she_ had come into his life, practically forcing him to mark the day whether he wanted to or not. And to his surprise, he'd wanted to put up with all the nonsense of decorating and exchanging gifts and sharing a meal with the team. All because he knew how much it meant to her. 

But this year. . . This year had been different. Everything had just felt wrong. Her idea of a tech-free Christmas. Moving the celebration to a remote mountain cabin instead of at the garage. Tim.

He'd seen the expressions on Tim and Paige's faces as they left the garage with Ralph in tow. They were going to be intimate, engage in intercourse. And it was all his fault. He'd lost her forever to another man. A man who was his opposite in every way. And the thought of her kissing. . .and touching. . .and letting him. . .

The mug slipped from his grasp, spilling its contents and shattering into pieces as it hit the floor. Pain tore through him as it grew hard to breathe. 

He needed air. He needed to leave, leave the place filled with too many memories of her. He needed to forget he loved her and come to terms with the fact she would never love him back. Hurrying across the garage, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, gulping the cool fresh air. 

Realizing he was in no shape to drive, he started walking with no particular destination in mind. He had no idea of how long or how far he'd gone before he pulled up short when his senses were assaulted by loud music and flickering lights.

He was standing outside a bar. Walter stared at it for several moments, debating his options: going back to a deserted garage or spending the next few hours with inebriated strangers.

He stepped inside.

_____

The interior of the establishment was noisy and crowded. Multi-colored lights flashed and loud unpleasant music filled the room, causing Walter to be a little overwhelmed, and a little surprised there were so many people there on Christmas Eve. It was an atmosphere he didn't enjoy, one he usually avoided at all costs. But tonight, the peace and solitude of the garage seemed much more daunting.

Wending his way through the tables and clusters of men and women, he reached the counter and sat down on the first available barstool he spotted. The man behind the bar glanced his way before grunting, "What'll you have?" 

"I'll have a beer," said Walter.

"What kind?"

"Whatever," he replied as he had no idea of what to even ask for. He'd only ever had one beer in his life, when he'd been a teenager. . . "Wait," he said as the bartender turned away. "Do you have Guinness?"

"Yeah." The man reached under the counter and pulled up a brown bottle, then plunked it down in front of him as he popped its cap. Walter took out his wallet before placing a twenty onto the bar. "You wanna start a tab?" the other man asked.

"Uh, sure."

Walter picked up his drink, and took a sip. It still had the same bitter root beer-ish taste he remembered. Shrugging, he took a bigger swallow. Twisting around, Walter surveyed the crowd. Men and women were socially interacting with an ease he'd never been able to accomplish.

He was on his second bottle when he glanced down the length of the bar. On the other end, a woman sat with her back to him. A woman with long honey brown hair.

_Paige_. What was she doing there? Draining his drink, he indicated to the bartender he wanted another. He hopped down from the barstool and walked toward her before stopping about a foot away. Taking a swig of his ale then a deep breath, he reached out and touched her on the shoulder.

The woman stiffened before spinning around. It wasn't _her_. Her eyes were blue instead of hazel. Her face, while symmetrically just as pleasing, was more rounded. And her lips were wrong. 

He didn't know why he thought she would be there. Toby could no doubt explain in tormenting detail he was suffering from some kind of delusional disorder. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Thought you w-were someone else."

She glanced at him appraisingly. "It's okay," she said, smiling as him as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Don't go," she added, putting her hand on his arm as he started to move away. "Are you here by yourself?"

"Yes." She was flirting with him, he recognized the signs now, thanks to _her_. "Um, I-I'm W-Walter."

"Hi, Walter," she said, lowering her gaze. "I'm Courtney." She patted the empty stool beside hers. "Wanna sit down?"

"Okay." He noticed she was drinking something clear with two green olives on a toothpick she aimlessly stirred in her glass. Her short black dress clung to her body and highlighted her long legs. Inhaling deeply, he finished his beer, setting it down on the bar, and raised his hand for another.

"So, are y-you here by yourself, too?" he inquired, reaching for the full bottle the bartender sent his way.

Courtney sipped her drink before answering. "No, I'm here with my friend. She's over there dancing." She pointed to a woman with short black hair wearing a red dress being twirled around by a tall man with a beard.

Walter wondered if he should ask her to dance, he couldn't tell if she was expecting him to or not. He didn't dance, in fact had never danced until the art gala he'd attended with _her_. Memories of holding her, touching her, looking into her eyes. . . His chest hurt just thinking about it. 

To clear his mind, he grabbed a napkin, pulling a pen from his pocket before writing a series of numbers; 16, 06, 68, 88, _, 98. "What's the missing number?" he asked. 

"Oh, God, I hate math," she said. He frowned, most of the women he'd shown this to were at least curious.

"I-It's not really math. Just logic."

"Who wants to be logical?" It's Christmas Eve. We should be having fun." She placed her empty glass on the counter and gazed up at him.

It took him a minute to realize she wanted him to buy her another drink. "Uh, sure." He got out another twenty and waved it at the barman. Once he'd procured her another martini and himself another Guinness, he showed her the puzzle again. 

"You have to flip it over," he explained, filling the blank with an eight and a seven. "See, it's 87."

"Are you a math teacher or something?" she asked, rolling her eyes

"Er. . .or something." Walter blinked, for an instant she had looked like _her_ again, whenever she was exasperated with him, which was more often than he liked lately. Lifting his bottle, he realized it was empty. Damn, he needed another if he was still dwelling on _her_.

"Hey, Court, who's this?" The friend came stumbling up to them, the bearded guy in tow. "He's cute."

"Jen, this is Walter. Walter, this is my BFF, Jen." Courtney eyed the other woman's partner as Walter wondered what the heck a BFF was. 

"Oh, yeah, this is Casey." Jen tugged on the other man's arm. "Shit, I need a drink." She signaled the bartender. "Hey, you guys should come dance. We're having a blast."

After another round of alcohol, Courtney slid off her barstool and grabbed Walter's hand. "Come on," she said, her words slurring a little. "Let's dance."

He allowed himself to be pulled over to the area where other couples gyrated to the music. Courtney started dancing and he stood still, watching her as his head buzzed from the noise and all the Guinness he'd consumed . She leaned in close. "Come on, dance," she murmured into his ear.

Walter glanced around at the people on the floor. Most of the men were just shuffling their feet while the women swayed their hips and swung their arms in the air. Hmm, he could do that. The music was harder to decipher, as it had a monotonous, continuous beat. 

His partner didn't seem to care. She kept rubbing herself up against him, contact of a physical nature he usually had trouble processing. But everything had slowed down and had grown rather blurry and the woman before him was starting to look a lot like _her_. And he didn't mind _her_ body touching his. 

They danced until they got thirsty, then danced some more. Walter had lost count of how many bottles of Guinness he'd had. At midnight, the tempo of the music had become more relaxed, and Courtney had put her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his chest, her hardened nipples boring through the layers of their clothing. His libido, something he kept under tight control, had kicked into overdrive. 

"You wanna get outta here?" she asked, smiling up at him in a way even he could read. She wanted intercourse and he would be more than happy to oblige. He recognized his reptilian brain had taken over, instinct telling him to mate with this woman.

"Okay." 

"Your plash or m-mine?"

"I live. . ." He paused as he hiccuped. ". . j-just a few blocksh from here."

"Shounds good. Letsh go."

Grabbing his arm, she sought out her friend. "Hey, Jen," she shouted, "we're leavin'."

Jen lifted her head from her partner's chest as they slow danced, then let it fall back down. "Whatever."

After they stumbled outside, Courtney dug around in her purse before pulling out her phone. "Gettin' ush an Uber. I don't think I can walk." She giggled as she dialed and made arrangements for a ride.

While they waited, she turned to him and snaked her arms around his neck. "I really, really like you Walter," she announced before rising up and kissing him on the mouth.

She tasted like her martinis had smelled. It wasn't unpleasant and he found himself tangling his tongue with hers. The beep of a horn startled them and they broke apart like guilty schoolchildren. Walter helped her into the car and gave the driver the address to the garage.

_____

Of all the presents to forget to bring from the garage, it had to be the one Ralph wanted the most. He'd dropped enough unsubtle hints about it. Leaving her laptop open and displaying the camera attachment he wanted for his telescope. Mentioning every time he used said scope how cool it would be if he had a camera attached to it. Writing it down at the top of the list he had made as a school assignment.

If it wasn't under the tree Christmas morning, she was going to have one very disappointed son on her hands. And she had disappointed enough people in the last 24 hours.

Tim had volunteered to retrieve the gift, but she'd turned him down. She told him it would be easier to go herself, she knew where it was and how it was wrapped. And if she was being honest with herself, she wanted an excuse to not sleep with the ex-SEAL. 

She'd seen the despair in Walter's eyes when they had left earlier. Tim's eagerness to sleep with her had been plainly obvious. She'd played along, pissed at the genius's treatment of the trainee. She had only overheard the tail end of the argument between them, but Walter's harsh declaration, "You'll never be a real member of Scorpion" had made her accept the two men could never work together, not as long as she and Tim were involved.

And ‘being intimate' with Tim had seemed like a good way to get back at Walter's pettiness. But as she cooled off, she realized she didn't want her first time with Tim to be because of something Walter had said or done. That would just be wrong.

Heaving a weary sigh, she got out of her car and let herself into the garage. Paige noticed right away all the lights were still on but no one was downstairs. As she stepped further inside, she spotted the broken mug in a puddle of eggnog near the Christmas tree.

_Oh, God, Walter_. Was he hurt? Sick? He'd looked pretty despondent when she'd left. Surely, he wouldn't. . . _Oh, God_. Her heart pounded as she ran toward the stairs, calling out his name.


	2. Chapter 2

Paige spun in her tracks as she heard the creak of the door as it was pushed open as if someone fell against it. Someone giggled then two people tripped over the threshold. One was a woman in a tight black dress and hooker heels she'd never seen before in her life. And the man the slut was draped all over as they stopped to sloppily kiss was none other than Walter O'Brien.

Oh, shit, he was drunk. A feeling-no-pain horny drunk. Paige watch in fascinated horror as the couple staggered across the concrete floor, helping each other maneuver around various pieces of furniture, pausing every so often to grope and slobber on each other. The pair came to a halt next to her desk, where Walter pushed the woman against it before mashing his mouth onto hers. 

Totally oblivious to the fact they had an audience, the woman slid her butt up onto the desktop, spreading her legs, Walter immediately inserting himself into the gap, his lips never leaving hers. One of his hands grabbed at the slut's bottom as the other one traveled slowly up her torso to her breast. The woman whispered something into his ear as she unbuttoned his shirt, and he lowered his fingers toward where their crotches were grinding together. 

_Oh. Hell. No._ Paige had seen enough. She definitely didn't need to watch as Walter nailed some bimbo on her desk. "Walter!" she shouted. When he ignored her, she yelled his name again.

He turned his head in her direction, his eyes unfocused and glazed. "Paige?" He stared at her, then back at the woman still squirming against him before looking her way again. She gasped as she got a good look at his new ‘friend'. It was like seeing herself in a distorted mirror.

"What the hell, Walter?" Paige marched toward them, stopping a few feet away and placing her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing? Who the hell is this?" The questions came out much shriller than she intended.

The bimbo lifted her mouth from his throat, and Paige could see the red mark she'd left behind. "Wha are you. . .you hiss wife or shometing?"

"No," she stated. "He's my boss and that's my desk you have your skanky ass on."

The woman pushed Walter away, upsetting his balance and he stumbled into the nearest pillar. "Who youse callin' a skank, bitsh." She fell off the desk, tumbling toward Paige. 

Walter had evidently regained enough of his senses to grab the woman around the waist before she could launch herself at Paige. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his words slurring as well as he struggled to hold his ‘friend', who was wildly flailing her arms and legs and yelling incoherent threats at Paige. "Why aren't you off screwing Tim?" 

"Walter!" 

"What?" he shouted over the woman's ramblings. "Itsh none of your businesh who I fuck. Get out!" His abrupt yell caused his companion to quiet down.

"Walter," Paige whispered, tears filling her eyes. "You can't. . . You don't mean to. . . Jesus, Walter, do you even know her name?" The thought of him with another woman, especially some anonymous pickup from a bar, made her heart feel like it was tearing in two. 

He stared at her in confusion. "Uh. . ." Glancing down at the woman in his arms, he seemed a little surprised she was there. "Um. . . Hey," he said, shaking her a little, "whash your name again?"

"You bashtard," the woman screeched as she turned around and smacked Walter across his face. "Itsh Courtney, you ash hole."

The slap seemed to snap him out of his alcohol-fueled lust. "Oh shit," he muttered, removing his arms from her waist. She collapsed onto the floor and started sobbing.

Paige didn't know whether to laugh or cry herself. Walter being drunk off his ass and bringing a bimbo back to the garage had to be the last thing she could ever imagine him doing. Glancing over at him, she noticed he had a look of repulsion on his pale, slightly green face.

Then he clutched his stomach. "Oh, shit, I'm gonna. . ." he began before spinning away and throwing up all over Sylvester's desk. When he was done, he slid to the ground, resting his back against the piece of furniture he'd just violated.

Exhaling in frustration, Paige realized she couldn't leave Walter like this. Beside the fact the thought he still might sleep with the woman currently blubbering on the floor made her ill, she'd heard too many stories of women robbing unsuspecting men they'd picked up. She knew she couldn't let that happen to him 

"Walter. Walter," she said as she crouched down next to the pitiful genius. He had his eyes closed, his head angled as though he had passed out. But he groaned and ran his hand over his face as some of his vomit dripped from the desktop onto his head and right shoulder.

"I-I'm s-sorry, sor-sorry," he stuttered, gazing up at her, his puppy dog eyes filled with misery. "I. . .I. . .don't know. . ."

"We need to get you cleaned up," said Paige briskly. "And you better hope Sylvester never finds out what you just did."

"Oh, shit." Walter tried to crane his neck to look up and was rewarded by more of his own sick plopping on his forehead. "Oh. . ." She jumped up out of the way as he heaved once more. 

When he had finished, Paige strode over to Happy's workbench, grabbed up a handful of rags then proceeded to wipe off the human calculator's desk. Deciding she would disinfect it later, she used one of the cloths to clean up Walter as best she could. He was still going to need a shower. But first things first. . .

Eyeing the woman who was now passed out on the floor, Paige snatched up her purse, rifling through it until she found a phone and a wallet. An ID card declared she was Courtney Harrison, age twenty-seven, and she lived in Glendale. A quick search of her cell revealed she had an Uber account. Paige arranged for a car to come pick her up.

Crouching beside Courtney, Paige tapped her shoulder then shook it when there was no response. "Wake up," she said, slapping Courtney's face a little harder than she meant to. She didn't feel as bad as she should have since all she received in return was a faint moan.

Paige stood up and went into the kitchen, filling a glass with water. She tossed it in Courtney's face, and finally the woman began to stir. 

"Come on," said the liaison, scooping her off the floor. "You're going home."

"Huh? Wha?" Courtney struggled to stay upright as she swiped at her sopping wet dress. "You bitsh."

Outside a horn beeped. Paige frog marched the uncooperative woman through the garage and out the door into the waiting vehicle. "Merry Christmas!" the driver chirped as she drove away.

"Yeah, you too." Taking a deep breath, Paige turned around and went back inside.

"Okay, you're next," she said to Walter who was still slumped in front of Sylvester's workstation. "On your feet."

"Why is the room spinning?" he asked, swaying unsteadily once he was standing.

"Just keep your eyes closed." Paige led him over to the stairs. 

"I'm gonna have to get that fished," Walter mumbled.

"Fished? You mean fixed?" Paige smiled as she translated his slurred words. "Get what fixed?"

"The floor," he said. "It'sh not level." He waved his hands, exaggerating imaginary ups and downs of the mostly flat floor. She laughed, coming to a halt. Walter stumbled up against her. "You shmell like lavender. Paige shmellsh like lav- lavender." He nuzzled his face on her neck. "I love her. But she doesh'nt love me. She loves. . .shomeone elsh. . ."

"Oh, God." Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks again as his words hit her like punches. It was the space capsule all over again, except instead of being deprived of oxygen, this time he was intoxicated. 

"Come on, let's get you upstairs," she urged, shoving her emotional turmoil from her mind. "You probably should open your eyes."

"Okay." Paige knew at once it had been a bad idea. Walter rocked backward then threw up a third time down the front of his shirt. 

"Sorry, sorry. . ." he muttered, clutching his abdomen. 

"All right, then no stairs." Pulling his right arm across her shoulders, she wrapped her left arm around his waist, then assisted him back across the garage to the ramp.

"I've never done thish before," he blurted out about half way up the incline.

"Done what? Picked up a floozy for a one night stand?" Paige joked, almost 100% certain he hadn't. 

"No, I've never. . .had. . ." He burped loudly, which caused him to lose his train of thought for a moment. "I, uh, never had a. . .any night stand. . ." 

_Oh, God_. She'd wondered. The adjoining yet separate rooms he'd booked for himself and Linda in Tahoe led her to believe he had never slept with the other woman. And from hints dropped by Toby and the others, he'd only been out with two other women for more than one date. It made her sick to her stomach to think his first time could have been a drunken fling he probably wouldn't even have remembered the next morning.

After what seemed like hours but probably was only a few minutes, they reached his loft. "Almost there," she said encouragingly as she helped him toward his bedroom. Where it became obvious she was going to have to assist him further. Evidently he'd passed the horny phrase and had entered the sleepy phrase. "Walter," she said, shaking him gently. "Come on, you need a shower."

"Mm. . .‘kay." His agreement was not back up by action, however, as he just stood there, wobbling back and forth with a dopey grin on his face. Oh God, she was going to have to undress him.

"Just pretend he's Ralph," she muttered to herself. 

Walter's shirt was mostly unbuttoned, so she pulled it off over his head. His undershirt was next, exposing a surprising muscular chest. The room suddenly became very warm as she had to keep her hands from gliding down his body. "Just pretend he's Ralph," she scolded herself as she reached for his belt buckle. 

Finally, clad in only his boxers, she walked him to the bathroom and turned on the shower, testing the water temperature by swiping her fingers through the spray. Just pretend he's Ralph, she thought as she pushed him toward the stall before tugging down his underwear. She pulled the curtain behind him, but not before she caught a glimpse of his firm buttocks. 

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her head, concentrating on the noise of the shower. A loud thud snapped her to attention. "Walter? Are you okay?" When she didn't receive a reply, Paige gingerly eased back the curtain, then threw it open. He was sitting in a heap at the bottom of the stall.

"Walter!" 

"Huh?" He looked up at her with bleary eyes. 

Paige glanced down at her clothes, glad she was wearing a sleeveless top. "I should just leave you here," she grumbled, averting her eyes as she lifted him up. "But lucky for you, I won't." Hanging on to him with one hand, she used the other to snap open his bottle of shampoo, poured some on his head, then scrubbed the vomit out of his hair. Figuring the rest of him was clean enough, she rinsed him off before turning off the shower. 

"Can you stand for a sec while I grab a towel?" she asked, receiving a grunt in return which she figured was the best answer she was going to get. She hurried over to the linen closet and grabbed two towels, quickly wrapping one of them around Walter's waist. She used the other to dry his hair before drifting down to his shoulders, his back, around to his chest. It wasn't until she heard him moan she realized she had been rubbing his nipples with the towel for several minutes.

_Oh, God_. "Okay," she announced decisively, tossing the towel at the hamper. "We're off to bed now." Her face burned when she realized how that sounded. "You're going to bed. By yourself."

"‘Kay." He fell against her and she had to put her arms around him, pressing against his bare skin. Her body began to stir in a way it never did when Tim hugged her, and desire pooled low in her belly. "Damn you, Walter O'Brien," she whispered as her eyes grew blurry once again. 

She led him over to his bed, pushing him down to sit on the mattress, and watched as he flopped backward. Guessing he'd be asleep in seconds, she pulled up his comforter over his nearly naked body, snatching away the damp towel at the last second. 

Shutting her eyes, she breathed deeply, an act she regretted instantly as she got a whiff of vomit mingled with the perfume the bimbo had been wearing. She couldn't go home smelling like a cheap slut. Looking down, she noticed her top was covered in large wet splotches and her jeans were soaked as well.

She went downstairs, found her spare set of clothes in her desk, then hustled back to the loft. Walter had rolled over onto his side, making little snorting sounds, she noted with a smile. Stripping down, she hopped into the shower.

When Paige was finished, she put on Walter's robe, which she found hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. It took a while to comb out her hair, she hadn't realized it had become so ratty. Finally satisfied with the results, she stepped out into the bedroom.

"Washing away the evidence?"

_Oh, God_. 

Tim.


	3. Chapter 3

Paige knew what the ex-SEAL lounging against the bedroom door frame had to be thinking. Her clothes and Walter's were laying on the floor where she'd tossed them. The comforter had slid downward, exposing Walter's bare back. She was wearing his robe, for God's sake. 

"It's not what it looks like," she said lamely. 

"No? Well, it looks like you and Walter had sex. And it looks like you screwed his brains out, judging by the way he's sleeping," he snarled. "Pretty convenient how you ‘forgot' Ralph's present. I should have known what was up when you insisted on getting it yourself."

"I did forget his present." Fidgeting with the robe's belt, she stared defiantly at Tim. "Walter had gone out and came back while I was here and he was pretty hammered and threw up. I got some on me when I was cleaning it up so I took a shower." She bit her lip, knowing her explanation sounded weak and incomplete, but she'd be damned if she'd tell the other man Walter had brought another woman back to the garage with him. She was in no mood to hear him gloat and find even more fault with the genius.

"You expect me to believe Walter got drunk?" Tim sounded incredulous. 

"I don't expect you to believe anything. It's the truth."

"You've been gone for over two hours. I tried calling, but it just kept going to voice mail."

Oh crap. "I left my phone in the car," she explained. "I was only going to be a few minutes." A panicky thought hit her. "Where's Ralph? He's not downstairs, is he?" This was a conversation the boy genius definitely did not need to hear.

"He's at the apartment."

Paige had heard the expression ‘seeing red' before but didn't see how it could be possible - until now.

"You left Ralph home alone in the middle of the night?" she shouted.

Tim shrugged. "He's twelve. He'll be all right."

"He's my son and I say you just can't leave him alone in the middle of the night!"

Her yelling caused Walter to stir, the comforter slipping down a little further, revealing the top of his bare butt.

"He's naked! If you didn't have sex, how he get naked?" the former trainee challenged as his eyes lingered on the man in the bed.

"Don't change the subject," she hissed at him. She waved her hand dismissively. "I need to get dressed and go home. Now," she demanded as Tim didn't move except to uncross his arms from over his chest.

"I'll wait downstairs," he said, pushing himself away from the door frame.

"Wait for what?"

"To take you back home."

"You're going home, all right. Just not to mine."

"What?" He looked as though someone had taken away his favorite toy.

"You think I've slept with Walter and you left Ralph alone in the middle of the night and you think I'm going to take you back to my place so we can have sex?" Paige's voice shook with anger.

Tim had the sense to reply, "I guess not." 

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"I trust you." He tipped his head toward the sleeping man in the bed. "I don't trust him. He thinks he loves you."

"I know." It was Paige's turn to fold her arms across her body. 

"This is never going to work, is it?" he asked after an awkward silence.

"What's not going to work?" But she already knew the answer.

"This long-distance thing. I've done it a few times after I've been transferred before. After about six months. . ." He shrugged his shoulders again. "It takes about that long to figure out you don't miss them all that much anymore. Usually someone cheats and. . ."

"Did you?" Unpleasant memories of the long-distance relationship she'd tried to maintain with Drew and finding him with the blonde in Tahoe made her sick to her stomach. But she was glad she wasn't as naive anymore.

"Did I what?"

"Did you cheat?" Paige gazed stubbornly at him.

Tim tore his eyes from hers and stared down at his shoes. "Yes. Just once. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. He was cheating though too. . ."

"He?"

"Uh, yeah, I thought you would have figured it out by now." He ran his hand over his hair.

"Figure what out?"

"That I'm bisexual. I was originally interested in Walter, but he made it pretty plain he's hetero, so. . ."

Paige was at a loss for words. She'd had no idea, of his sexuality or that she had been his second choice. Not that any of it mattered. He was a cheater. That was all she needed to know about him.

"I don't care." She bit her lip so hard the coppery taste of blood seeped into her mouth. "You're right. This was never going to work. I think you should go now. I'll explain to Ralph. . ." A sob bubbled out of her chest and she couldn't continue.

"He would have started undermining our relationship the minute I stepped onto the plane. He's no saint. . ."

"No one ever said he was," she interrupted before he could launch another tirade against Walter, one that now sounded suspiciously like sour grapes. "He has a lot to make up for before I'd ever consider anything other than friendship with him. Not that it's any of your business."

"No, it not." He shook his head. "You love him, don't you?" 

"Yes."

"So this is it? ‘It's been fun but goodbye?'" 

"It was fun. Tim, you're a sweet. . ."

"Ah, hell, don't say that," he cut in. "I'm tired of hearing about how I'm such a sweet guy. Or a nice guy. That's even worse." 

The pout on his face made her giggle. "I'm sorry, but it's true." 

"I'd better go before you tell me ‘it's not you, it's me.'" He started to turn away then stopped. "I imagine it's too much to ask for a kiss goodbye?"

"Seriously?" She fluttered her hands in Walter's direction. "It's bad enough we just broke up in his bedroom while he's passed out drunk."

"Right." Tim flashed her a tight grin that quickly disappeared. "Have a good life, Paige."

"You, too."

He stood there, just looking at her for a few moments before finally walking away. Paige's legs gave out when she heard the downstairs door creak shut, and she plopped down on the corner of the bed. She didn't even realize she was crying until a tear dripped off the end of her nose. Using the sleeves of Walter's robe, she futilely wiped her face, eventually giving up and giving in to her frustration she'd let another cheater into her life. At least this time she'd found out before she'd fallen in love with him.

And she only cried harder when she realized she never would have fallen in love with him, not when her heart still belonged to Walter O'Brien.

_____

Fifteen minutes later, Paige had pulled herself together, had gotten dressed, cleaned up the bedroom and bathroom, tossed Walter's clothes into the washer, and retrieved the forgotten present. She needed to go home, Ralph was there alone. She needed to wrap the rest of his presents. She was tired, it had been a long day, and she just wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep for about a week.

It was after two in the morning. Christmas morning. Ralph would be up in less than four hours, ready to tear open his gifts and eat the pancakes she'd made every Christmas morning since he'd been a year old.

So why was she standing at the foot of Walter's bed, staring at him as he slept? He looked so peaceful, yet she didn't envy him the hangover he was going to experience later. He hadn't moved at all when she'd rearranged the comforter to cover his bared body, her hand accidentally grazing the breadth of his shoulders. 

She loved him. He loved her. It should be so simple. But it wasn't. And it probably would never be. Nothing was simple when it came to the complicated genius. He was as scared as she was, as worried as she was of what would happen if a relationship between them didn't work out. There was so much at stake. Scorpion, Ralph, their friendship. . . 

With a weary sigh, she moved to the head of the bed, reaching out and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Merry Christmas, Walter," she said before placing a light kiss where her fingers had been.

The drive home was short, traffic practically non-existent this early in the morning. Paige let herself into her condo, placing the present under the tree before hustling to her son's bedroom. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and saw Ralph sound asleep in his bed. She knew deep down he had been perfectly all right by himself, no matter what she had screamed at Tim. But he'd had no right to make that call. He wasn't Ralph's father. And now he never would be.

She waited for the tears, for an ache in her chest, the clenching of her stomach. But they didn't come. Their breakup should have been upsetting, she'd dated him for months, had nearly slept with him. . . And yet, she felt nothing now he was out of her life. Well, not even nothing, it was more like a sense of relief.

She'd thought she wanted normal. She'd thought she wanted safe. She'd thought she wanted predictable. Instead, she discovered she must really want weird and unpredictable. And trust, she wanted someone she could trust. Someone who would never cheat on her. Someone who would protect her and her son as best he could or die trying. 

She wanted Walter.

Softly exhaling, she bent down over her sleeping son, stroking his hair from his forehead before giving his cheek a kiss.

_____

"Mom! Mom!"

Ralph's excited shouts from the living room woke her out of a sound sleep. Ugh, what time was it? Paige opened one eye, finding her alarm clock. 6:44 am. She'd only fell into bed about three hours earlier, surprising herself by going to sleep almost as soon as her head met the pillow. 

"Just a minute, sweetheart," she called out, swinging her legs out from under her blanket and sitting up. Running her hands over her face, she stood up. Coffee, she needed coffee and plenty of it if she was going to make it through the day.

A hour later, the living room was ankle deep in torn wrapping paper and bows. Ralph had darted into his room to get his telescope, evidently waiting a second longer to attach his new camera to it wasn't an option. Paige leaned back on the couch, chuckling as she took another sip from her cup.

Time to make pancakes, she told herself, getting to her feet. She was adding buttermilk to the batter when her son hopped into the kitchen.

"Where's Tim?" he asked as he adjusted a bolt on his scope. "I thought he was supposed to be here this morning. He's still not asleep, is he?" He glanced over his shoulder toward her bedroom.

Oh, God, had they been so obvious? Apparently so. "Tim's not here," she said briskly. "Uh, we broke up last night."

"Really?" She heard the happiness in his voice, glimpsed it on his face before he added more solemnly. "I mean, really? What happened?"

"Uh." She wondered how much she should tell him. Not all of it, of course. There were some things he didn't need to know until he was older, if at all. "We talked it over and decided a long-distance relationship wasn't going to work," she finally said. "Tim said he's never had one that lasted very long and you know your dad and I didn't work out."

Ralph stood silently for several minutes, pursing his lips before asking, "Does this mean there's still a chance Walter can be my dad?"

_Oh, God_. He looked so hopeful, so excited at the prospect. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "It's not just up to me, you know."

"Walter wants it too."

"It's not that simple, sweetheart." She set down the milk carton, drawing him into her arms when she saw his crestfallen face. 

"Why not?" Ralph scrunched his nose. "Do you still love Tim?" 

He wasn't holding back, was he? "I like him. A lot. I thought I could love him. But. . ."

"You already love Walter?"

"Like I said, it's not that simple." Straightening back up, she began stirring the batter. "Hey, what if we went over to the garage after we eat and get dressed?" She really should check on how Walter was faring. Plus, she remembered with a grimace, she'd never disinfected Sylvester's desk.

"Can I bring my telescope?"

"Yes." Although Paige didn't know if the hungover genius would be up to inspecting the new camera.

"Awesome." He ran out of the kitchen, no doubt going to get ready.

Paige smiled wearily. Who was she kidding? It was that simple. 

And that's what scared her the most.


	4. Chapter 4

A thick, heavy fog encased his brain, although it did little to deaden the rhythmic pounding in his head. His stomach churned with nausea. Every inch of his body hurt. 

With a groan, he rolled over onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. Just the light shining through his eyelids was too bright. His mouth and throat were dry, like he'd stuffed them with cotton balls, though he'd never done such a thing before. 

What the hell had happened last night? He allowed his mind to drift, and it filled with confusing snippets of images and sounds and scents and sensations. Bright lights, loud music, the mingling of perfume and alcohol and vomit, a body pressed against his. . .a soft female body. . . Oh, shit. . .

He lifted his arm, ignoring the stabbing ache in his head as he glanced at the other side of bed, which was thankfully empty. Staring up at the ceiling, he pieced together his adventure. Evidently he'd gone to a bar, got drunk, and. . . 

There had been a woman. One with honey brown hair. One who looked a lot like Paige. But it couldn't have been. Could it? She'd gone to her condo to have intercourse with the interloper. But pictures of her smiling face, the touch of her gentle hands, breathing in the lavender hand cream she always wore, became clearer with every passing moment. 

Had he been dreaming? She'd been pissed at him when she'd left. No doubt already blaming him for Tim taking the job in Jordan. It had been unfortunate timing but. . . He was the leader of Scorpion. The ex-SEAL had been foisted on him from the beginning and yet he was the bad guy because he finally exercised his right to say who he wanted (or didn't want) on his team.

The slamming of a door shook him out of his troubling thoughts. It sounded close by, like someone had gone out on the roof. His nose caught a whiff of coffee being brewed. His gut rebelled and he had to dash to the bathroom, where he discovered as he emptied his stomach, he was naked.

After taking a shower, he found a pair of jeans and a shirt. Getting dressed was a challenge. His head kept spinning, his fingers lacked dexterity, and it took five attempts to get his legs into his jeans correctly. Walking through the loft had proved difficult as well. The floor undulated at odd moments, impeding his progress. 

Walter stood at the top of the staircase, wondering why it was swaying back and forth until he realized he was the one swaying back and forth. Gripping the handrail tightly, he cautiously made his way down, stopping midway when he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye.

Paige was spraying disinfectant from the bottle Sly kept handy onto the human calculator's desk. His first thought was what the hell had happened on Sylvester's desk that it needed to be disinfected? His second, why was Paige there? And where was Ralph? A third question, but he was no longer interested in keeping count.

She looked up from her task and smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Walter," she said in a low tone. 

"Uh, Merry. . .Merry C-Christmas," he returned, the sound of his own voice driving spikes into his head. "Um. . ."

"Do you want some coffee? I made a fresh pot. I didn't put any cinnamon in it," she announced. "Thought it might not be a good idea."

"Uh, maybe later." He continued on his way down the stairs, finally reaching the bottom. Reaching out to steady himself on the nearest desk, he made his way toward her. "W-Wait. . . W-Why w-would it. . ." Then it dawned on him.

She knew he was hungover. It _had_ been her last night. Oh, damn, damn, damn. He hadn't. . .with her. . .on Sly's desk, had he? He would remember doing _that_. Wouldn't he?

"Um, Paige," he began, not sure where to begin. "I c-can't remember everything. . .last night. . . I, uh. . ."

She set down the squirt bottle and the stringent smell of its contents stung his nose, causing him to gag a little. Hoping he wouldn't vomit again, he took a step back. 

"I'm not surprised you don't remember, Walter," she said somewhat disapprovingly. "You were pretty plastered."

"I didn't, um. . .didn't do anything. . . er, untoward. . ." His face was on fire as shame rose inside him. His gut swirled but he swallowed it back down.

"Not unless you call throwing up all over Sly's desk untoward," she replied, grinning at him.

He was more confused than ever. Why had she been here last night? Why was she here this morning? Why was she being so pleasant? He was having trouble wrapping his head around the whole situation. It was surreal and he vowed then and there never to drink again. 

"Walter? Are you okay?" Her hand touched his shoulder, startling him, sending waves of desire through his body. He shrugged her off, her nearness was too much to for him to bear. She didn't want him anymore. She'd made it clear she wanted Tim. He had to learn how to live without her and this. . .kindness, sympathy, whatever it was. . .wasn't helping.

"Walter." Her voice was soft and gentle.

"I don't want your pity, okay?" he lashed out. "Why are you being so nice? I thought you were angry with me." He moved further away, hoping physically distancing himself from her would emotionally distance himself as well. 

"I've had some time to think," she said. "Tim's leaving is not all your fault. If I hadn't been so, well, blind, I would have seen how unfair this has been to you. You're not blameless," she added as he glanced up at her. "You've done and said some pretty childish things."

"I know and I'm sorry." He stared at the floor. "It still doesn't explain what happened since last night that changed your mind."

Paige chuckled. "Well, I don't know all the details. . ." She told him what she'd been able to piece together, most of it matching what he could remember. But still, one missing element nagged at him.

"Wait, if I didn't. . .uh, you know. . .if it wasn't you. . . W-Was there another w-w-woman?"

Her smile left her face then. "Yes. You brought someone back here. If I hadn't been here to get the present for Ralph I'd forgotten, you probably would have had sex with her on my desk."

"Oh. . ." He rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I-I don't know what I was thinking. . . I w-wasn't thinking. You sh-shouldn't have had to w-witness that." Turning on his heel, a move he instantly regretted as his head started spinning, he stumbled his way into the kitchen before plopping down in a chair.

"Walter. . .Walter, it's okay." Paige sat down next to him. "It was. . .unsettling. . . But I know why you did it."

"You do? I sure don't," he muttered as he held the sides of his face. 

"You were upset I was with Tim," she said. "Or you thought I was going to be with Tim. You know, intimately." Her cheeks flamed pink.

He gazed up at her. "You weren't?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "We broke up. We, uh, talked it over and decided it wasn't going to work. The long-distance thing. I'd already been burned once before. I don't think I could go through that again."

"You're worried Tim would cheat on you?" Walter was incredulous. If Paige were his, he'd never even look at another woman, let alone. . .

"Yes. He admitted he's done it before." She looked pensive for a moment. "I'm glad I found out before. . . Before things went too far."

"I'm sorry." A little spark flared up inside him. The interloper was out of the picture. She hadn't had intercourse with him. Maybe she hadn't been in love with him either. He knew he needed to atone for his earlier behavior. But still. . . There was hope.

"Do you want that cup of coffee now?" she asked, getting to her feet. 

"Yes, thank you." Walter watched as she filled one then another mug before placing one in front of him. She sat back down then drank from her cup. 

"I brought some pancakes too," she said, pointing to a foil covered plate on the stove top. "I make them every Christmas. They're Ralph's favorite."

"Uh, maybe later, thanks." His stomach roiled slightly at the thought of food. He took a tentative sip of his coffee and considered it a small victory it didn't come back up..

"Mom! Mom! Oh, hey, Walter." Ralph came running down the ramp, coming to a halt when he reached the kitchen. "You gotta come see my telescope camera, Walter. I got it for Christmas."

"Ralph, Walter's not feeling well. . ." Paige began to scold.

"No, I'm fine. A camera? Awesome." He stood up, gulping down the rest of his coffee. "I'd love to see it."

"Okay. Okay, mom?" Ralph hopped up and down excitedly.

"Go." She waved her hand as she rolled her eyes. The boy genius headed back to the roof. As Walter passed by, Paige grabbed his arm. "If you get sick again, you're cleaning it up."

He saw the smile in her eyes. "Okay." 

Once on the rooftop, the fresh air cleared Walter's head a little. Ralph showed him the photos he'd taken so far. "Since it's not dark and it's cloudy, I couldn't really get any star shots. These are just practice."

"If it clears off tonight, you should be able to take some great ones. Orion's belt, Polaris, the Pleiades. . . they're all visible this time of year."

Ralph nodded. "Walter," he said, his young face growing solemn. "Did mom tell you she and Tim broke up?"

"She did." Walter knew where this conversation was heading and he needed to nip it in the bud. "Ralph, it doesn't mean she and I will ever be. . .what you want us to be. What I want us to be. It's up to your mom."

"I know." The boy's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Why is love so complicated anyway? It's just an abstract construct."

Walter chuckled. "I used to think that too. I learned the hard way I was wrong." He knelt down beside Ralph. "I love your mom. . .and you. But I messed up. Big time. And it's not going to be easy, but I am going to do whatever it takes for us to all be together. But no matter what we do, it's still up to your mom to forgive me."

"I don't stand a chance, do I? Not against two of the smartest men in the world."

Both geniuses whirled around to see Paige leaning on the door frame. Walter's heart leapt into his throat. Oh, damn, how much had she'd heard? She didn't appear upset. In fact, the grin on her face indicated the exact opposite. 

"Why don't you show me how your new camera works, Ralph?" she asked as she walked toward them.

"Sure." The youngster took her hand and led her over to where he had his telescope set up.

Moving several steps back, Walter observed the two of them interact with other for several moments before coming closer again. Standing next to Paige, he was surprised when he felt her hand touch his. He glanced over at her, a shy smile on her beautiful face, then entwined his fingers with hers as Ralph explained the settings on his new photography equipment.

_____

"Eggnog?"

Walter stared down at the mug Toby had shoved into his hands, his lip curling in disgust. He still disliked eggnog. 

Standing there, cup in hand, he watched as his friends departed. When the door banged shut after Cabe, who was the last one out, Walter felt his fingers tighten on the mug's handle.

"Do you have it?" Ralph came up beside him, speaking out of the side of his mouth in a conspiratorial tone.

"Yes, right here." Walter patted his pocket with his free hand. 

"Good." The boy genius looked from side to side in an exaggerated manner. "Mom's in the kitchen. I'll tell her you want to talk to her on the roof. Okay? Now, go."

"Okay." His breathing grew harsh and he started shaking. Setting down the mug of eggnog on the closest flat surface, he then headed upstairs.

"Ralph said you wanted to talk to me." Walter spun around a few minutes later as Paige stepped through the rooftop door.

"Uh, y-yeah, I-I do." Even though it was a cold night for Southern California, his palms and forehead were damp with sweat. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he watched as she moved closer.

"It's beautiful out here tonight," she said, looking up at the sky.

"Not as beautiful as you." 

"Thank you, Walter." She smiled as she touched his upper arm. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"No. . . I mean, y-yes. . . But there's more. I wanted to give you your Christmas present a bit early." He bent down, picking up two cords then plugged them together.

The perimeter of the roof was dotted with Christmas trees draped with sparkling lights. He watched as she stared in amazement. "Oh, Walter, it's wonderful. I love it." 

"One more thing," he said, swallowing nervously. He knelt down on one knee, feeling like an idiot, but more experienced heads (okay, Toby and Cabe) insisted this was the way to do it. His so-called gallantry was rewarded with a gasp.

"Walter?"

Taking the box from his pocket, his fingers fumbled as he opened it, nearly dropping its contents onto the ground. He managed to grab the diamond ring before holding it up to her.

"W-Will you m-marry me?"

He glanced up at her, watched as her eyes filled with tears. Oh no, she was going to turn him down. It was too soon. He should have. . .

"Yes."

. . .waited. Wait. . . "Yes?"

She nodded, holding out her left hand. He slid the ring onto the appropriate finger, then stood up.

"I love you," he said, his whole body bursting with joy.

"I love you, too, Walter." 

He leaned in at the same time she did and their lips met somewhere in the middle. A noise from the door way drew Walter's attention away for a moment. Ralph was there, a smile on his young face and giving him a thumb's up. Walter returned the gesture before refocusing his efforts on the woman in his arms.

Who would have guessed a year ago, when everything had seemed so bleak and he'd hit rock bottom, he'd now be the happiest genius in the world?

**FIN**


End file.
